He kissed me. Ryan actually kissed me! I took a chance on a handsome stranger and it totally paid off. I’d been very right to give Ryan the benefit of the doubt. My birthday re-do was off to a very good start.

Trina had packed my bag the night before, and she’d included a number of articles of clothing that were not in my regular rotation. For today, apparently, she intended me to wear a tight, blue, flowered dress, opaque maroon tights, and ankle boots. My usual outfits consisted of jeans, t-shirts, and flip flops. This was yet another of Trina’s underhanded attempts to get me to ‘dress better’. And this time I had no choice but to wear her pick.

I rolled my eyes, but she was right. Maybe I would finally trade in my v-card. Maybe, just maybe, Ryan was the one.

I felt lighter than air, despite the constricting tights. I’d been kissed plenty before, but not like that. Never like that. Most guys my age had all the slobber and finesse of my mom’s aging basset hound. Ryan was nine years older than me, and he’d apparently used them to get extremely good at kissing. I hated thinking about him kissing other women, but if I just thought of them as, well, practice, it didn’t bother me nearly as much. Practice makes perfect. And now Ryan was perfect. For me.

I flopped on my stomach on the bed, seriously wondering if I would hover with joy if I didn’t make an effort to keep myself down. The butterflies in my stomach were having some sort of fiesta and it seemed to have the potential to lift me up clean off the ground. The next text that popped up on my phone brought me crashing back to reality.

Great. My dad had figured out texting. I’d known it was inevitable, but I’d really hoped that I’d be in my thirties first.

There. That ought to buy me a little bit of time. I prayed he wouldn’t reply, but I knew his help never came for free. He was going to ask me if I registered for the LSAT course next. I watched the screen, waiting.

My heart sank. I knew it! I sighed deeply before typing out my reply.

My dad thought my love of music was endearing, but ridiculous. To him it was like wanting to be a ballerina, or an astronaut. He was totally convinced I’d ‘grow out of it’. I’d given up on trying to convince him otherwise.

Of course, he sent me a new credit card (I’d clipped the old one in two and mailed it to him several months back when things went really south between us). It was how he expressed love. I wanted to give my dad the benefit of the doubt, and I knew he cared about me, but this was exactly how things started with him when I was eighteen.

He provided all the help and support that money could buy—he offered to send me to any college I wanted and support me completely throughout—but the moment I deviated from his plan, the guilt started. He didn’t even want to listen to my point of view. If I somehow made him listen I but didn’t come around to his way of thinking, the card started getting declined. Suddenly, the gift of his financial support became a curse. I found myself choosing between registering for the classes he wanted me to take and eating. My mom preferred emotional blackmail. My dad preferred a more direct approach.

Still, I couldn’t deny that my dad was there for me when I needed him. My mom had brushed me off yesterday, but he’d answered. He’d dropped everything to make sure I got what I needed. It may not be a perfect relationship, and he might not be a perfect person, but my dad loved me. That was a lot more than a lot of people had. I was grateful, even if things were complicated between us.

My dad had sent me Ryan. I wouldn’t have ever met him otherwise. It was hard to be morose when I thought about that.